Our God, the King, and a Prince
by mr.squince
Summary: A man who sees himself as a god, rules over the world. A man who found himself a king, rules over the country where it all began. A boy who dreams of riding the world of evil, begins his great adventure to discover the truths and secrets of their world.


Our God, the King, and a Prince

Prologue

The night was cold. The fog was thick. The wind was fowl. The creatures of the night were still. The castle was silent. All was as it should be. All was unprepared for what was to come.

The man in black, with the hood of his cloak covering his identity, stood outside the castle; the wind forcing his cloak to wave through the air. Yet the man stood perfectly still. He patiently waited for the eastern patrolman to fall asleep as usual. The man in black had studied the night watch rotations, and knew that this night would be his night.

As predicted, the eastern patrolman began to snore as he leaned on the east tower. As a thick wall of fog moved in toward the castle from the north, as did the man in black. Walking lightly stepping around leaves, twigs, and other debris, the man in black swiftly approached the castles east tower. He leaped up and climbed the tall stonewall like a black spider, with each limb grabbing pre-calculated areas moving up ever so silently. The whistling of the wind was all that filled the air.

Before long, the man in black had finished climbing and had begun meditating. He sat at the top of the wall whispering softly. "Ectlnt lo pekor, serut us eronseras Dentui! (Energy of wind, give me wings Fly!)" The man repeated these divine words thrice more before taking in a breath and rising to his feet. He then stepped off the edge of the wall and began to glide toward the east tower, the wind whipping his cloak through the cold night air.

The man stared into the side of the tower with no intention of slowing his rapid approach. The tower grew as he shortened the distance. He then closed his eyes and whispered, "Connoc! (Flip!)" Immediately after the word connoc slithered out of his mouth, he flipped forward and silently planted his feet into the side of the tower. Not a sound.

The man in black began to shimmy over about a meter and once again began whispering the words of the divine language. "Ectlnt lo breku lo us athwal... Hientu! (Energy of matter of my body... Compress!)" A dark shadow crawls up the mans cloak, compressing his body as it rose. As the shadow reached the peak of the mans hood, he squeezed through a narrow arrow slit, his body regaining shape as it slid out of the arrow slit inside the tower.

A patrolman stood, motionless, across the room. It was obvious the petrified man had never before witnessed any form of magic. The man in black, amused at this sight, raised his right hand with his palm up and fingers curled up. He whispered to himself, "Ectlnt lo helnfor, wundr us tuelna. (Energy of fire, flow through my hand.)" The patrolman could not seem to move, as he was too mesmerized by the flame that spread on the palm of the man in black.

In an instant, the man in black maintained his arms position, while letting his hand tilt so that his palm faced the patrolman. "Dentui! (Fly!)" Before the patrolman could react, the flame flew through the air, split into two and pierced into the eyes of the patrolman. The man in black hurried past the patrolman, who was rolling on the floor screaming hopelessly. There was little time to waste with all the noise the patrolman was making.

The man in black soon found a stairway that spiraled up to the top of the tower. The floor beneath him was covered with a dark puddle; he assumed that it was just the dark taint of the Scepter of Vintharia, leaking out. The man in black then looked back up and decided it must be above him. He started swiftly up the steps that spiraled to the top.

Sounds of men hurrying to aid their blind patrolman, echoed through the tower. "God of all gods! What happened to the eyes of Thrall?"

"They burn! Like the suns fire!"

"Who did this to you, young lad? Where did he go?"

"For the mercy of the gods! Do I not have my eyes aflame?"

"Archers! Above you! Attack the man in black!"

The man in black momentarily steadied his ascent and whispered, "Ectlnt lo sthaveo, quio grasil resthun lo frntha prntok us Ith! (Energy of hate, drop your tears beneath me Fall!)" Black liquid began to pour out of the cracks between the stones that circled around the stairwell. A green steam radiated off of the black liquid that began to fall onto the archers that stood far below. All cried for forgiveness of all their sins against the gods, as they melted away with the liquid. Their souls being forced from their bodies and lost into the air as the green steam disintegrated to noting.

Finally, the man in black reached the top of the tower and found a puddle of darkness seeping under a door. He reached forward toward the door and whispered, "Eonthal! (Open!)" The door began to bend inward until the stress overwhelmed the door, forcing it to split open. The man in black rushed inside.

A pedestal, representing the center point of the room, sat quietly with veins of blackness crawling downward to the floor. There lay the Scepter of Vintharia, a long staff that filled the room with dark taint. A green layer of electric energy that hummed softly surrounded the head of the scepter, a blood-red orb. The man in black approached the pedestal cautiously. Reaching toward the scepter, he heard a dark and twisted voice inside his head. "Merhectuaria us elor merkethnr. (To possess me is to conquer.)" The man in black took hold of the Scepter of Vintharia and raised it up with the head of the scepter pointed toward the heavens.

The man in black shouted with a deep and demonic voice that made those who survived below tremble in fear, "Quio us vrnth ectlnt lo thlnor. (Release me into the energy of the gods.)" The green electric field sparked all around the orb. A dark cloud formed over the man in black and begun to descend upon him. He laughed quietly and spoke. The world shall tremble at the sound of the name, Thr.

About a quarter of a mile away from the castle, a black raven puffed out its feathers as it suffered a cold chill. It glared at the Eastern tower as a dark olive-green explosion of flames engulfed the top of the tower. It began to fly away from the castle to scavenge for food in the village that lay toward the West. The dark taint that lay with the victims in the castle was even too much for the raven


End file.
